


Sun-Sick

by Kayasurin



Series: Turn a Little Faster [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bonding, Everyone else thought they were friends, Frenemies to Friends, Gen, Illness, Now they're all on the same page, On Jack's part, Relationships progressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has caught the flu bug. Fortunately, his fellow Guardians aren't going to leave him to suffer alone. Unfortunately, they think he's dying from lack of believers. Jack will one day make them pay for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun-Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: illness, fever to the point of hallucinating, and everyone thinking the sick person's dying even though he isn't.

The sneeze was sudden, explosive, and _painful_.

Mostly because Jack managed to knock himself off the tree branch and hit the ground before the wind could catch him.

He sniffed, and swiped at his nose with one hand. Then he squinted up at the tree; a flowering something-or-other, he didn't know, he didn't pay attention to flower names or anything.

Although if this version was going to make him start sneezing, he'd have to learn it quickly... if only so he could avoid it.

The wind scooped him up and carried him away, gentle as it ever got, as if in apology for letting him fall. Jack quickly forgot about the sneeze, distracted by the clouds and the best way to fly with heavy bruising.

~~**~~

By autumn, there was no more forgetting. While the bruises from fighting Pitch had faded, the sneezing - and a week later, coughing, aching joints, runny nose, aching head _and more_ \- had only gotten stronger. With the summer solstice behind him, Jack had to admit the truth... He had the flu.

On the one hand, with his mortal memories once more at hand, and heh, occasionally _in_ hand... he still hadn't given Tooth back his tooth box... Well. He'd been sick as a mortal, and it'd sucked. The flu, the cold, Pneumonia and laryngitis and one incident with poison ivy he did his best to forget all over again. At least once a year, usually two or three times per, he'd gotten sick with _something_. As a spirit? Not so much.

He could count the number of times he'd gotten sick in the past three centuries on one hand, and have fingers left over. Unfortunately, it seemed that in place of quantity, the illnesses decided to go with a somewhat dubious _quality_. Each and every time he'd gotten sick, he'd gotten _sick_. Just like he did this time.

In lieu of a bed to curl up in, he had a pile of leaves at the back of a shallow cave. Instead of soothing mugs of tea and bowls of soup, he had a metal-tasting trickle of water that slid down the back of the cave. Or, if he felt up to it - and he didn't - there was a dubious, somewhat brackish stream outside the cave. The nearly-sea side cave lacked a mother to rest cool cloths across his forehead, a father to bring him tasty berries to tempt his appetite, or a sister to tell him stories to keep him entertained. It did have the distant sound of waves on the shore, the rustle of the wind through the tree branches, but...

Well, it was no home, that was for sure.

Jack wasn't sure exactly how long he spent in the cave; it could have been a few days, it could've been two weeks. He was feverish, going from chilled to too hot, shivering and sweating and all but tearing off every stitch of clothing... and then desperately dragging it all back on again. Sometimes both within five minutes. He wasn't _exactly_ hallucinating, not entirely delusional, but time was being very wibbly-wobbly and off-kilter. However long it'd been, Jack looked up from the trickle of water, mouth still burning with thirst, and saw Sandy. Just hovering there. Watching him.

Jack blinked, but Sandy didn't go away. He waved, and Sandy waved back, so... okay. That was okay. He was in no condition to get more than that - Sandy, waving, hi - and when he looked up again he was alone.

Well, okay, that was... either he was now hallucinating, or Sandy had been by but hadn't seen anything wrong. Either option seemed possible. It wasn't like Jack knew Sandy all that well, he'd only joined the Guardians... uh, Easter of 2012, however far back that was now. Couple months?

The guy was made out of _sand_. Sandy probably never _got_ sick. Probably didn't know what illness even was...

Of course, if Jack was hallucinating, there'd probably be a Disney Acid Sequence coming up, so. Honestly he didn't know which would be less fun.

He drifted, or something, through a time of feeling like he was burning alive from the inside out, gasping like a landed fish and never getting enough air. And then, like flipping a switch, burning turned to freezing, and the sweat coating him head to toe felt as cold as the Arctic Ocean.

Jack curled up, teeth chattering so hard they were probably cracking. Ow. And also, erk, he hated feeling cold, he never felt cold and now he was _freezing_ -

"Jack?" The hand was large, and against his chilled skin, felt like fire incarnate. He gasped, the air biting into the back of his throat, and started coughing. Each desperate gasp made the ache in his throat worse, made him cough harder, made him gasp more, until he was wheezing, curled up around the ache in his chest and the lack of air.

Someone was rubbing his back. Fingers pressed and massaged his tight chest. Jack groaned, and slowly uncurled. The straighter he got, the more air he could suck in, and the more air he got, the less it hurt.

He looked up, everything wavering. He was too cold and the hands were too warm and there were tears in his eyes. He saw white hair and a long beard. Blue eyes, dark with concern, stared down at him.

He... knew this person. Didn't he?

Jack couldn't remember. He tried to grab the person's sleeve - not alone, please, alone bad - but his fingers just skimmed the soft fabric.

The person was talking, but he couldn't hear them. They were touching him, but he couldn't feel it. It was so cold and he was so hot.

He was drowning again.

He was drowning.

He was -

~~**~~

Jack woke up feeling like crap on a cracker, but he was tucked into a bed, so that was miles better than his last memory.

He blinked up at drapes of fabric, and shivered faintly. He wasn't, actually, cold anymore. Or feverish. He just felt... blah. And sore. His joints hurt, his muscles felt strained, his bones seemed to have been replaced with lead bars. On the other hand, he could breathe, air didn't hurt his throat, and he was in a bed.

A really nice bed.

There was a canopy overhead. It was blue.

... What was a canopy doing in a cave?

"Oh, Jack!" Tooth moved into view, and smiled. Jack smiled back, because... smiling. Right? He hummed when she brushed her fingers over his forehead and down his cheek. It felt nice. Familiar. He had a memory of his mother doing the same, when he'd been younger and sick. She'd checked his temperature just like this.

He opened his mouth, and tried to talk. Tried to tell Tooth about it, share the memory of his mother, but...

He couldn't. His mouth moved, he was doing everything he could to talk, but... There were no words. No sounds.

"Sweet-Tooth, you've... you've lost your voice," Tooth said. Her lips trembled a moment, and then her smiled firmed. "From all that coughing you've been doing. And not nearly enough to drink. Did - didn't you have anywhere to go? A home, or...?"

He lost his voice and then she asked him questions? Jack frowned, just a bit, and then rolled his eyes.

Tooth squeaked, and covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, you're right... sorry. Um, yes or no questions... Didn't you have anywhere to go?"

Well... yeah, he supposed so. If he'd shown up at the Workshop or Tooth's place, they probably would've let him in. If he knew how to get to Tooth's place. And, y'know, if the Yeti weren't annoying.

"Yes and no? Oh..." Tooth settled down beside him on the bed, barely wrinkling the covers. "Um, okay. What about your own home?"

What home? Jack shook his head 'no'.

"You couldn't reach it?"

Another 'no'. Tooth was starting to look worried, now, and he felt bad about it, he did, but...

But he supposed a part of him wanted her to know, that... that he didn't have a home. That he slept in trees and on rooftops and in snowdrifts, sometimes. That Jack Frost was always on the outside, looking in. Excluded.

It wasn't a very nice part, he supposed, but it was there.

"Jack... If I got you a map, could you point to where your home is...?"

He shook his head, and, after a moment's thought, snapped his fingers. He made a 'scribbling' gesture in the air, and smiled when Tooth brightened back up.

"That's a lovely idea," she said, and rested her hand on his wrist. "I'll get a pad of paper and a pen. You can write your answers!"

Jack's smile dimmed a little, because no, he couldn't, but he could draw. Like Sandy made his images in the dreamsand. Normally, Jack supposed he could use his frost, but... right now the _thought_ of using his magic hurt. _Actually_ using it would probably be a lot worse. It always was, when he got sick.

Tooth was back within a few minutes, but Jack could already feel his energy lagging. He yawned, and reached for the paper and pen.

Tooth frowned, but handed them over. "Alright. I won't ask you too many more questions, Jack, you need your... you need your rest."

He nodded, and turned the pad of paper to a fresh page. A house, a house... right. It was a simple, child-like drawing of a house - he hadn't held a pen in... decades, at least - a box with two windows bracketing a door. He drew a triangle roof, and a chimney poking up with curling lines for smoke. Over it, he drew a rough snowflake symbol, which looked much more professional than the house had, in his opinion.

Jack showed the drawing to Tooth, who frowned and then nodded. "Your house," she said, and touched the page.

Jack nodded, and then drew an X through the rough drawing.

"... Jack?"

He pointed at the X again, and then flipped to a new page. A tree now, rougher than the house, with a snowflake just above the one branch. A bench - at least, he hoped it was obviously a bench - and a snowflake. He wasn't sure how to draw snow, or sleeping on a rooftop, so left it to those two things.

Tooth took the papers, and touched the drawings. "Jack," she asked, something in her voice so very small and sad. "Jack, do you... not have a home?"

He nodded, and yawned again. He startled, a little, when Tooth reached over and cupped his cheek.

"I'm so sorry we left you alone," she whispered. He hummed, or tried to, and relaxed back into the pillows and soft mattress. She pulled the covers back up to his chin, and smoothed them out over his body.

"You just rest," she told him. "You'll - you'll feel better. I promise."

~~**~~

When Jack next woke up, he felt a little more clear-headed, and a little worse in body. Figured; he could think better, but physically he felt like he'd gone downhill. So he'd probably gotten better, able to notice all the little discomforts that had fallen to the wayside while his internal thermostat tried to boil him alive.

He sat up, just in time for North to yelp and all but lunge halfway across the room. Jack stared at him, the comical figure stretched out, balanced perfectly on one leg like a figure skater. After a minute - Jack may or may not have counted the seconds, and hey, laryngitis, no one could pester him for answers either - North settled down onto both feet, looking sheepish behind his beard.

Jack did his best to arrange his expression in a "WTF North" sort of way, and must have managed it since North took a seat next to the bed and started making faces.

"Jack," North finally said, approximately five seconds before Jack risked the pain and started flicking snowflakes at him. And then North fell silent. Jack sighed, and looked around, since North was just _staring_ at him. It was going from creepy to annoying, and he didn't really want to use his magic.

Maybe a pillow...?

"I wanted to apologize," North said. Jack eyed him. If this talk-and-stop was going to be a thing... Was this why people referred to awkward conversations as 'pulling teeth'? It was very annoying.

This time, when North stopped, Jack reached over and poked him in the forehead.

North winced, and stared at him with eyes that were suspiciously watery and red-rimmed. "Why didn't you come to me, Jack? I know -" He paused to sniffle into a handkerchief, and then continued, lower lip trembling. "I know I have not been very welcoming in the past, but surely, if you felt... unwell... Did you not know I would happily open my house to you?"

Oh for the love of - What the hell, did North think he was dying or something? There was no way the badass Santa With Swords was sniffling over a flu bug, was there? Jack scowled, and flicked North in the nose. Idiot.

"I'm sorry. You're right. It is only - oh, Jack, we have only just begun to get to know you!"

North continued on in that vein for a couple minutes, but it was drowned out by a horrified ringing noise in Jack's ears.

Shit, North really did think Jack was dying.

... North was an _idiot_. Where was Tooth? Someone with a voice needed to tell this idiot he was being an idiot, because Jack was quite obviously not dying!

He folded his arms and waited for the teary recital to finish. North's handkerchief was rather soggy by that point, and he looked miserable.

Jack reached over and patted the old guy on the head. He'd have given him a hug, but one, spreading germs was bad, and two... North had gotten kinda snotty. It was gross.

North sniffled and tried to smile. Jack did his best to scream 'you're an idiot' with his face, and also actually scream 'I'm not dying!' He managed a wheeze. And apparently North didn't read lips, because he just patted Jack's hand.

"You rest. Let us take care of you, now."

... Where was his staff? He needed to _smack_ someone right now.

~~**~~

Sandy peered around the half-open door, and beamed at the sight of Jack sitting up, bundled in about thirty (okay, three) sweaters and a pile of picture books on the nightstand.

The tablet was way more appreciated than the books, considering he couldn't read. Not even Russian, and there had to be at least three Russian texts in the pile.

Jack waved Sandy in, and put his current game on pause. He maybe caressed the sides of the tablet a little as Sandy pulled up a cloud, but damn it, he was going to steal this ASAP. North had enchanted it, like an old wizard out of story time, and now it got free WiFi and an unlimited bank account or something, because he'd bought like fifty games without any problems or passwords, and even better? Never ran out of battery life.

So yes. Stealing the tablet. Never giving it back.

Sandy made a sad little smile, the expression now unfortunately familiar from all his visitors. Tooth and North kept making that face at him. The yeti kept making that face at him, and just yesterday he'd had a small pile of child yeti - _please_ , god, let them be children and not adult midgets - cuddling him while trying not to cry.

He was getting _really sick_ of that expression.

And he still couldn't talk. Because of laryngitis.

Sandy made several slow signs, which Jack only understood because it was exactly what everyone else was saying. 'So sorry you're sick. Should've done better. We don't understand the difference between a _cold_ and _death_.'

Jack switched his tablet from his game, to the drawing app he'd picked up for mostly this purpose. He sketched out a smiley face and two stick figures hugging, and showed it to Sandy.

That might've been a mistake. Maybe. Sandy's entire face crumpled up, nose wrinkling and eyes scrunching and mouth twisting like he'd bitten into a lemon. And then he launched himself at Jack, stopping short at the last second to hover over Jack like a balloon filled with misery.

Oh, what the hay. Jack pulled Sandy down for a hug.

~~**~~

Angry Birds: addicting, but not nearly as entertaining as North on a roll.

"-and if we just get you more _believers_ ," North said, one arm flailing as he paced back and forth. "You will get better. I can _feel_ it... in my _belly_ ," he added, patting his paunch.

Precognitive stomachs. Jack had probably heard weirder.

He frowned at North, and tilted his head to the side in what had quickly become short-hand for 'you make no sense but I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here'.

... He had so much sympathy for Sandy right now. So much.

North sighed, and dropped down onto the couch that was, for some reason, in the bedroom. Probably just for this purpose, actually. "Jack. You are Guardian now. The oaths... bind us. And no one expected this to happen so quickly, but you are powerful..."

He chose that moment to trail off and stare pensively at the ground.

Jack threw a pillow at him. He was exhausted and sick, and that was the _only_ reason why the pillow didn't even make it halfway.

Did its job, though. North jumped and looked up at him, and then smiled, a wry little twist of his lips that was as out of place as a Santa hat was on Bunny.

"Yes, I apologize. You have, what, seven believers?" Jack held up nine fingers. "Ah. Well. That's... not a lot, for a Guardian. I think, we think... we weakened when we lost believers, but... but Jack, you..."

Jack sighed, and switched the tablet back over to the drawing program. Nine quick tick-marks, and he held it up to North. Then he added a multiplication sign and the number 1,000,000 and held it up again, one eyebrow quirked in question.

North snickered, and nodded. "Clever. And yes. More believers, we think, will... save you."

Jack snorted, because he wasn't _dying_ , he was sick, but... the snort might've been a mistake. He knew he looked confused, but then he was coughing, and couldn't _stop_.

Mucus. Ugh.

North did a fine job of panicking, but also of rubbing Jack's back and trying to brace him with one hand against his chest. It sort of helped. Not as much as Jack would've liked, since every time he coughed his throat lit up with fire, but at least he wasn't breaking his own nose on his own knee.

Again.

He bit his tongue at some point, and when the spasm finally let up, there was blood in his mouth and on his lips.

North looked horrified, but at least he gave Jack a handkerchief.

~~**~~

He gets a fever again. Because of course he does.

Jack is well aware that he's hallucinating, but his dad is giving him the best advice. The best. He tries to pass it on to Tooth, but his voice is still gone, and his dad makes that 'why me?' face he does so well and assures him that'll pass.

"Drink lots of water," his mother adds, and then tweaks the bedcovers a little straighter over Jack.

Water is good. He points at the glass, and frosts the surface over for his sister, no matter the spike of pain at his temples or the way his gut twists. The water is cool and goes down easy, sooths a little of the fire inside his body. It comes roaring back, and he doesn't know if the hands are his mom's, or Tooth's, or someone else.

Does it matter? He's burning, inside out, the world is melting at the edges or maybe that's him, but -

A glass of water is held to his lips, and he tries to suck it down, but Meany McMean person doesn't let him, keeps pulling it away as he goes too fast. If he sips, though, the water's there, refilled when it runs out. At one point he breathes in while swallowing, and water goes down the wrong tube.

This time he knees himself in the eye while coughing.

Things get a little blurry, as they usually do at this point. The next time Jack's aware, sort of, his sister's scowling at him.

"You're an idiot," she says, and flops backwards. Mom swats at her knee - for some reason they're all in 1980's clothes, not 1680's like he grew up with, so that's... that's definitely a woman's power suit with shoulder pads right there, and Mom, no. You're supposed to have better taste than that.

The door opens, and Bunny steps through. Jack's dad looks Bunny up and down, and then snorts.

"He's a little tall, isn't he?" Dad asks. "Is he Christian, Jack? You'd think he'd be Christian, seeing as he celebrates Christ's rebirth."

Jack kind of stares at his dad a little. He's still voiceless, but he talks anyways, because hallucination. He knows this is a hallucination. It's a form of insanity to talk with a hallucination.

But for god's sake, Dad, no. He's not going to ask Bunny about his religious beliefs, he'll probably punch Jack in the face.

"Rude," Dad says, and turns away from Bunny.

Bunny, for his part, just looks sad.

~~**~~

The worst of the illness was now behind him, thank god. Jack had his tablet back, his fever had broken, and he felt well enough to shuffle out of bed and down to the common room, with all the Christmas trees and presents.

And he could talk. Or croak. Well, verbally communicate, in a manner of speaking.

"I missed Christmas?" he asked. Bunny smiled faintly, one hand under Jack's elbow to keep him steady.

"You didn't miss much. All the yeti and elves were on their best behaviour. Guess they figured any pranks might set off waterworks."

And there was a weird thought right there. Jack made a face at it. These were the same yeti and elves that threw him out time after time?

Bunny chuckled, and continued to mince down the hall as Jack shuffled.

Bunny... Well. Bunny was being strange, and it had started since the hallucinations. Tame ones, thankfully; Jack remembered other times, other hallucinations, that'd been less pleasant. This time his family had just shown up, made commentary about everything, and his dad had kept asking whether Bunny was Catholic, or thinking of converting. Jack had hallucinated that he'd replied, though probably all he'd done was mouth the words and wheeze a lot.

It'd been probably somewhere around a month, all told, that Bunny had been keeping him company. More than anyone else, even, and North lived here.

Jack shook his head, and paused in the doorway to look over the giant Christmas tree, the decorations and the floor to ceiling windows looking out over a snowy field, soft flakes drifting down to slide against the glass. Bunny stood with him, looking not around the room, but down at Jack.

It was weird, and almost uncomfortable, even after a month of getting used to having Bunny watch him. Of having Bunny pet his hair when he thought Jack was asleep, or having Bunny willing to spoon feed him. Which Jack maybe allowed once or twice, when all the strength poured out of him like water out of a cracked jug.

So Jack reached out to the windows, and mentally twisted, until thick, glittering frost curled and climbed over the glass. It blocked the view, but this time it was blocking him in.

He was getting used to the idea, maybe.

He smirked up at Bunny, who blinked and frowned. "Jack, what -?"

"Look!" Tooth flew up over the crowd, though a collection of twelve Guardians and yeti was hardly a crowd. "The glass! Jack!"

It was like a wave, the way everyone turned and started for the door, only to jolt backwards at the sight of him. Jack grinned, and started shuffling forward again. Bunny paced him. And then the mob swarmed him, and carried them off to the seating by the fireplace and the Christmas tree.

"Is that thing growing out of the ground?" he rasped, and pointed at the tree. The floorboards stopped three feet away from the trunk, in places more like four feet back, and there was bare earth and a lot of gnarly roots. "Really?"

"Good piece of work, if I say so myself," Bunny said, and patted Jack's hand. "Just sit down and relax, Frostbite. You're not much up for long hikes yet."

No duh. Jack stuck his tongue out at Bunny, and then turned and began reassuring people that yes, he was okay, he was fine, not dying, still a bit sore in the throat but otherwise feeling alright. Exhausted, but nothing a few twelve-course meals wouldn't fix.

Judging by the determined looks several yeti got, he probably shouldn't have said the twelve courses thing.

Eventually the yeti and elves moved away, leaving him to deal with only Tooth, Sandy, and North. And Bunny, but Bunny was just sitting there smiling at him, some darkness gone from his eyes that was only visible in its absence.

"Okay," Jack croaked, and cleared his throat. "Two things."

And wow, everyone leaned in to listen to him. Awesome.

The smirk? Entirely natural. "One, Bunny is not allowed any alcohol." He ignored the overgrown rabbit's protest. "And two, I need a drink."

Sandy brought him a glass and a pitcher of juice, some kind of berry blend that tasted amazing. He squinted at Sandy's images, trying to puzzle them out, when Bunny leaned over and whispered, "Virgin cocktail."

Which kind of explained the rooster tail part. Okay then.

After a bit more fussing, everyone settled down and got back into the party spirit. If a few - okay, a lot - of glasses ended up frosted over, well... Jack could do frost in his sleep now, and at least his magic didn't hurt anymore.

He watched gifts get exchanged, and got two himself, though technically that was his staff and he'd already stolen that tablet.

When he muttered as much, Bunny choked and was looking away when Jack glanced at him.

"And now," North boomed, when the presents seemed exhausted. "Now we move on to final gift of season, heh? Let me set up movie."

Jack blinked, and looked from Bunny, who had a resigned, yet horrified expression on his face, to Sandy, who looked excited. "Movie?"

Tooth was the one who answered, dropping down between him and Sandy. "Oh, North's got an entire section of Yeti who make those claymation holiday movies. He's tried making a few for Bunny," she added, gesturing at the rabbit in question. "But they tended not to go over well."

"Do... any claymation movies go over well?" he asked, and took a long swallow of his drink.

" _Santa Conquers the Martians_ ," Bunny said, before Tooth could reply.

"That wasn't claymation."

"Then that bloody Rudolph ones. He doesn't even have a Rudolph!" Bunny poured himself a glass of Jack's virgin fruit juice, which was probably safe enough, and drank.

"Rudolph has best plotline for claymation," North said, returning with what looked like a _stack_ of DVD cases. "But Conquering Martians sounds like great fun, we should do that some time."

"We should absolutely not," Tooth gasped, sounding horrified. "Put that idea down and step away, Nicholas, it's not happening!"

Jack wrinkled his nose. "Wait, there's actual Martians?" And then something else occurred to him. " _Nicholas_?"

"Of course, is my first name. Well, probably." North touched something on the side of the fireplace, and wooden panels above the mantle shifted and slid aside, revealing the biggest screen Jack had seen outside of movie theatres.

"Probably?" What was that on the cover of that movie case? He couldn't quite make it out...

"Raised by bandits. So really, who knows?"

Raised by bandits? Okay, Jack no longer claimed any monopoly on shitty beginnings as a spirit. "So what're we watching?"

North beamed, and picked up a TV controller from somewhere. He pressed a button, and the TV not only turned on, the movie started playing.

"How Jack Frost Saved Christmas!"

Jack gaped at the opening credits, and the big-headed clay image of himself skating on a frozen pond. He couldn't look away.

He was a giant-headed clay image.

In a movie.

About saving Christmas.

"North?" he wheezed, as his giant-headed clay image began to _sing_.

"This has already gotten you so many believers," North gushed.

There was singing. And dancing.

Oh, god.

"North, I am going to kill you."

"Wait, what?"

Jack grabbed his staff and vaulted over the back of the couch. He didn't feel sick anymore.

North, however, was going to be feeling very bruised shortly.

 _Singing._ Of all the horrific things!

Behind him, Bunny sneezed.

**Author's Note:**

> North lives, despite having made _five_ of those claymation Jack Frost movies.
> 
> ... Mostly because Jack doesn't want to disappoint his new believers, they'd be sad if Santa died.


End file.
